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Three WitnessesOctober 19, 2008 Laity Sunday Listen to part one of this sermon Listen to part two of this sermon
Naila Meyers is a Sports Editor at The New York Times and since 2005 when she joined our ranks has been active in all phases of life at Christ Church. Consider that today alone she speaks, rings, and serves us at Coffee Hour. Jay Rice and Jackie DeGroat, members of Christ Church since 1991, have been integral to the church’s life and growth. Jackie has been active in Outreach and Children and Family ministries, and Jay has served as a Trustee of Christ Church and now coordinates our ushers. By day Jackie is a child psychologist and Jay a video editor. Their son Theo, baptized at Christ Church as an infant, is now preparing for Confirmation.
They have not always been compatible forces. They seemed at times to be in a tug of war. I was as active in my church growing up as I am today at Christ Church – Rev. Bauman talked about resumes two weeks ago, and I had a huge one, which included even Christian puppetry. But back in college, as soon as my church-going interfered with my career-building, I dropped the church going almost cold turkey. Which was surprisingly easy considering how important my church was to my upbringing and how much I loved my church family back home in Iowa - even the puppets. But I didn’t have much of a relationship with God, perhaps did not even understand that you could have such a thing. If you had asked me back then what I believed, I probably would have regurgitated something from Sunday school. It was a faith given to me, handed down from my minister grandfather, from my parents who diligently took me to church every Sunday but didn’t engage in conversations about God and Jesus at the dinner table. It was a faith unchallenged and unexamined, a faith taken for granted. It was, it turned out, disposable. Besides, it was much easier to have faith in myself. That I could control. As I grew into a successful professional, what I believed was that “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” I trusted no one but myself, and sometimes not even myself. I floated through my life, untethered, attached to nothing but my desk at the office. Because that was where I fit in, that was where I thought I was my best self. But I wouldn’t be standing up here today if my spiritual life had not intervened in my professional life. I’m not sure I want this job I interviewed for on Friday, and that made me think of the last time I interviewed for a job I wasn't sure I wanted and how I eventually found myself walking through the doors of this building, a place, it turned out, I desperately needed. That those two events happened two years apart doesn't lessen how connected they are in my history. Five years ago, I was living in St. Louis. I had a great job, loved my co-workers, and had even worked my way up to having weekends off, which in the sports journalism business is like manna. But I was feeling a little restless, so when an editor at the local paper called me about the opening they had, I said I would come in for an interview just for the heck of it. And they offered me the job. But people whose opinion I valued told me that not to take it. It was a negative environment, they said. It was a bad place for a woman. I would be returning to the bottom of the food chain. I took the job anyway. It was a completely illogical and impractical. It was a borderline stupid career move. In explaining my decision to my shocked co-workers, I used all kinds of career development jargon about needing a change. But the truth was both simpler and much more complicated. The truth was that I just had a feeling. I felt it in my gut that it was the right thing to do. It was total clarity, such complete conviction that I started to cry. It was as Ginger described it last week, “a larger vision, a bigger reality, a deeper love, a more profound being that holds us and guides us and strengthens us.” The rightness of this decision was not immediately apparent. The people who had warned me about this job were right. It was a negative place, it was a bad place for a young woman. But through this new job, the one I didn't think I wanted, I met my best friend, I fell in love, I even became closer to my parents. And in less than two years, through a person I met in the job I didn't think I wanted, I got a job at The New York Times, a job so good, for someone so young, that I hadn’t even thought to dream of it. But I had dreamed of living in New York City. So the story's over, right? Girl listens to that still, small voice and achieves her dream. But God wasn't done with me yet. I had listened to that voice, but I was still not in a relationship with God. I hadn't returned. I hadn't learned anything. People tell me I was born to be a New Yorker. But even if I was built for this place, it wasn’t any easier to uproot myself. It wasn’t any easier to leave my family, my friends and everyone I loved a thousand miles away. The relationships I had cultivated had strained or severed, and once again I buried myself in my work. I was once again disconnected. The problem with being so successful, so young, is that you start to believe that that there's nothing you can't do. Not in the “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” way that Ginger talked about last week, but in the “I can do all things because I’m awesome” kind of way. This way of living is not sustainable. And to remind me of that, that feeling in my gut returned with a vengeance. It said, "Go back to church." It was time to decided what I believed. I was one of those people that found Christ Church through Google, and when I walked through those doors, the effect was almost as immediate as an Internet search. I learned that I was not alone, that I had never been alone. I learned that I did not have do it all on my own; in fact, I can’t. I learned that it was O.K. to fail because God never fails. It doesn't matter whether I get this job or not. I know this is where I fit, this is where I’m my best self. And I know it is the place where being your best matters the least. I was finally grounded in something bigger than myself. And this is what I believe: God will give me what I need. It might not be what I want, it might even be something I decidedly do not want. It might be something so great I didn’t even think to dream of it. --Naila Meyers Previous sermon: The Choice is...God's? • Next sermon: Trust All past sermons |
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